A Drunken Blizzard
by Peace215
Summary: A sloshing Tony, jealous tendencies, Gibbs' favorite bar. A giant blizzard and a cute redhead. Can McGee get Tony to finally open up to Ziva or will it be a total waste? Companion to "A Simple Snow Storm." McGee/Tony friendship, Tiva talk.


**Summary:** Companion piece to the story _"A Simple Snow Storm"._ This time its Tony's turn to receive a wakeup call. Is McGee really ready for this talk with a sloshing Tony, a familiar Navy bar, and the cute redhead in the back booth? All while getting him home before Gibbs' finds them? McGee's work is never done.

**AN:** All grammar and spelling mistakes are my fault. Don't hate me. I thought I left the other story really wide open, and it seems by popular demand a companion piece should accompany it. I agreed. Tony needs the reality check and McGee is the confident man to give it to him. _Maybe._ Enjoy!

"_**Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something"**_

~Proverb

* * *

_"The weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful…" _Tim scowled low into his brown jacket, his pug-ish nose turning a bright red with the howling wind. The snow was plastering down in sheet of misery, the white blinding anybody with half an eye to see, and he was outside. Walking. _In the snow._ Because his car was stuck in _a snow pile_ in the parking lot on the Navy Yard.

Because Porsche sport cars didn't have four wheel drive. And, because, McGee never thought in his life of living in Washington D.C., that he'd ever have to experience a blizzard. Sure they had snow storms - just about any place on Earth could get snow nowadays with global warming – but a blizzard? _Seriously_?

_"And since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow…" _The scowl deepened. He **had** no place to go about fifteen minutes ago. He was safely tucked in his warm apartment, the new gel lit fireplace his sister bought him burning happily in the corner of his living room and a big tome of literature on his lap. He blinked against the onslaught of white.

He was content. He had even made arrangements with Ziva that Abby would pick them both up in the morning for work; her snow tires were on – with spikes to match her choker. They all knew that Ziva's car wasn't built for snow either; her small Mini Cooper had barely slid out into the street on her way home. Whether it was from the snow or her driving was another matter of discussion for another day.

He had no reason to worry about not having a car – he was _home._

_'I'm going to kill him.'_ McGee thought hastily as he jumped over a puddle of ice, snow and a bit of mud. The trek to the bar wasn't as far as it seemed; maybe a block or two at the most, but the weather made it unbearable. And the fact that their boss, Gibbs, frequented the bar on many nights after a difficult case was not helping matters. He had to work fast.

If Gibbs ever heard Tony talk the way he did when drunk, Gibbs would send him, Ziva and McGee to the ends of the earth just so Rule Twelve wouldn't be broken. Or _attempted_ to be broken. McGee knew Gibbs held that rule high above the others; look at him and the late Director Sheppard. McGee sighed against the memories and the cold wind.

Music played overhead in the loud speakers above the boutique as McGee passed. He had the strangest urge to kick the building but continued on instead. _"It doesn't show signs of stopping…" _

_'Give me a break.'_ He sighed, a puff of steam coming over the collar of his jacket. The song was just too much for him; maybe twenty minutes ago he was in the Christmas/Holiday mood, but not then. Not in the cold and chilly snowed in street he walked. Just then a car rushed by, spewing debris on to his coat and dark blue jeans. He stopped short and swore under his breath, the whole time wondering if getting the license plate would do him any good. Like his luck didn't suck enough already.

"He's going to die." He muttered as he stomped toward the last building on the road, sludge dripping off his hands. A warm light filled the inside and fell on to the dull gray pavement that McGee stood on as he pulled open the door. A light jingle was heard overhead by a brass bell. He could instantly feel the fire in the back room as his toes defrosted and his nose began to run.

He walked through, the door closing quickly behind him as if to ward off the snow storm outside. McGee began to wipe the snow off his shoulders, and tried to salvage his jeans from soaking into the grim too much. It was useless though; his pants were sticking to him unpleasantly and he had barely walked into the bar_. 'Great, just great.'_

It didn't take long for McGee to find who he was looking for; he sat at the bar, one hand holding up a small glass of something amber that shone red in the light, and the other gripped the bar end as if to balance himself. McGee sighed, all thoughts of ranting at Tony gone. He could see the utter pain in the way he sat, and the drunkenness was rolling around him in waves. McGee couldn't help it; he felt suddenly bad for Tony, his friend as he kicked back another one, and called out to the bartender for a refill.

McGee pulled his coat off and steadied himself accordingly. He had been through this enough to know how to best approach Tony when in such a mess. He'd have to sit with him and talk. It was what Tony really needed – that and a really great, amazing friend like Tim to listen to him. Did he say amazing? Especially for leaving his warm apartment to come to a _bar._

That Gibbs loved. Crap. He rolled his skyward. He was hard pressed for time.

Walking slowly over to his friend, he nodded to the bartender. The massive, burly man smiled amicably at Tim, looking almost relived that Tony's close friend had decided to gather him. It was Rick, the bartender, who had called Tim anyhow. They had done this routine quite often over the summer – it hadn't been as frequent since then.

Rick shrugged and walked away, placing another glass in front of Tony. The guy barely registered it as he watched the Thursday night football game. He wasn't much of a NFL man – he always commented on the Ohio games – but football, was football. Rick placed another, much smaller glass to the side of him and filled it quickly with sherry for McGee as he plopped down along side Tony.

McGee nodded again and Rick was off to attend to another customer. Slowly Tim placed his coat on the bar, hearing the squeaking of his wet clothes against the leather tops, and winced as he sat. Now that he was fully drenched, and uncomfortable, with his underwear riding in places he didn't even want to think about, he turned toward Tony. The man paid him no immediate heed as Tim lifted the sherry to his lips.

The sherry burned as it went down, but it had been a small sip. He didn't plan on being drunk with Tony – that had been a mistake he would never make again. Ever.

"You didn't have to come get me Probie. I was on my way out." Tony said, gesturing with his head to the door. McGee noted his words weren't slurring together as much as they usually did when he was like this. He also noticed that Tony didn't look at him. If anything, he knew Tony prided himself on eye contact with his peers.

"Right. You look it." It was a simple sarcastic comment that he had to throw out there. He was trying to get a rise out of the older agent. The man looked glued to the television, his eyes glassy from the alcohol and not blinking often.

Tony didn't rise to the bait though, but instead took another sip of his amber liquid. McGee sat next to him and chewed the inside of his cheek. He knew Gibbs would be there that night – the case had broken everyone's hearts. He shot a side glance to Tony and cocked his head a bit to the side. Maybe that was why Tony had gone to the bar, and not home like everyone thought?

"You alright Tony?"

Tony snorted, shaking his head as he looked into his glass. Whatever was in there did not hold the answers he looked like he was seeking. He face fell slightly as he answered, "Yeah Probie, I'm fantastic."

McGee rolled his eyes. "Look, I understand you've got some stuff going on in your head but Tony, Gibbs will be here tonight. He's probably around the corner right now!" He gestured wildly to the door as if Gibbs would walk through at the mentioning of his name. Tony raised an eyebrow and glanced over, narrowing his eyes as if to get a better look.

"That trick only works in Abby's lab McSquiggle."

McGee licked his lips in desperation. Alright, so maybe he wouldn't be pushing this session faster than he had hoped with the threat of Gibbs. He looked back at the door and sighed, his face falling as if a dog had been run over. It was only a matter of time before he…

"She won't answer any of my calls."

The sentence caught McGee off guard. He peered closer to his friend and raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

Tony sighed and flipped out his cell phone, watching as the light turned on brightly. He pushed a few buttons with his thumb before handing it to Tim. McGee took it uneasily and caught the first name in a list of five. "Ziva?"

He nodded and took back his phone, followed by a quick gulp of his drink of choice. "Yep."

Tim sighed sagely. So he might not have been in the actual mood to talk about Ziva and Tony' feelings for their friend, but it was better than acknowledging the sludge seeping into his boxers. He settled into the barstool so that he'd have an eye on the door and one on his partner. He could tell Tony needed to talk – Tony almost always needed a talk when he drank. And McGee knew he was the man who would play the role willingly.

Besides who else would put up with his continual rants about Ziva, her ways and the way she taunted him? So he said.

Sipping at his sherry he gestured with his hand, "Why are you trying to call her?"

Tony shrugged. Tim raised both eyebrows at this. Normally given a moment to chat about the ex-Mossad officer, Tony took the leap head first. Tonight Tony seemed to be in his own world, subdued and completely pity stricken. It was not how most of their nights went when they were having a few after office drinks.

At the mentioning of work, McGee glanced at the door. Not a soul was near it; something in him relaxed, but another part tensed with anticipation. If Gibbs came while they were in the middle of a talk, McGee would see the subbasement long before he ever wanted to again – and Tony would be at ROTA.

"Tony," McGee began, licking his lips as he thought. "Talk to me. What's going on with Ziva?" Tim halted for a minute. "Is she okay?" Now a pang of worry went through him – was she upset, having flashbacks to the summer, did she need help?

His friend waved away his worry with a careless gesture. "Oh I'm sure she's fine. She's always fine." He sighed again a bit dejectedly. "I just wanted to talk to her."

McGee sat back in his stool, the concern lacing his features dissipating quickly as Tony's words registered. Then it clicked in the back of his mind, having McGee smiling coyly at his friend. "She's out on a date isn't she?"

The glass tumbled on to the bar. Luckily it was empty as Tony had finished it off in record timing. He signaled to Rick for a refill, but the bartender looked at McGee for confirmation. McGee shrugged; who was he to stop Tony from binge drinking? He wouldn't have to deal with him in the morning. "It's not even a real date!" Tony exploded, slurring just a tiny bit over his thoughts. "She went out with Abby to one of her shows. Ziva never does that. Ever!"

McGee held back the laughter at Tony's actions. "Tony, Abby and Ziva have been spending a lot of time together. They have weekly date nights and go out to Abby's shows or to Ziva's kick boxing classes."

The narrowed green eyes caught his like a deer in a truck's headlights. "She went out with Abby and two other guys." He seethed, the anger totally coming out of left field.

"Okay," Tim sighed. He rubbed his tired eyes as he sipped the sherry. He finally noticed he was out. Placing the glass on the bar top he milled over his next course of actions. He could defend Abby and Ziva to Tony, or he could play up on Tony's jealous tendencies. He wasn't sure which the safest option was with the man drunken within swinging range.

He chose to defend. "Okay, well Abby has a lot of guy friends. All of them could be going out to the show together."

The anger only slightly ebbed away as Tony said, "I don't like it."

McGee turned to see the new drink slide into Tony's hand and the new glass of sherry appeared in front of him. At Tony's words McGee felt a spark of pure aggravation growl in his stomach. Who was he to be so adamantly against Ziva going out? And what was wrong with having guys go out with them? Did he not remember Abby befriended all!

"You need to let it go," He settled for lamely. He couldn't process the frustration lining his mind to convey it to Tony through his drunken stupor. McGee had never felt anything but good feelings toward his friend when out with him, but his sudden outburst had bugged him the wrong way.

He was happy that Ziva was getting out and having fun. Everyone knew she needed to heal, and Abby thought friendship was the best cure; McGee concurred. Tony, on the other hand, apparently did not.

"Timmy, I have nothing to let go of-"He sneezed unexpectantly. "She's a big girl and can do what she wants."

"You're jealous." McGee sighed, now recognizing his friends' emotions. Normally he would rant to McGee, and ask for a shoulder to prop him out on the way home. Tonight, with the stress of the case, the alcoholic affects of whatever he was pouring down his throat and Ziva going out on the town and not answering his calls had driven him into a jealous anger that was partly guilt at himself and partly guilt at Ziva. McGee knew somewhere inside Tony he was beating himself up for hating the fact Ziva was out and he wasn't with her.

"And now you know how she felt when you had your undercover op with Jeanne."

He knew digging into Tony's past was probably not the greatest of moves; in chess he would have been knocked off the board in a heartbeat. But he was feeling a bit spiteful for the immature way Tony was handling his concern over Ziva. It was the same frustration that he felt when he couldn't break down Ziva's walls long enough for her to see that Tony was there, real and feeling for her; not just some guy who would occasionally go out of his way to be near her. He had felt real frustration when she didn't want to grasp the concept that Tony felt something for her, and when she had chosen to ignore the feelings for Tony.

Now it was a reverse. Tony felt too much, and was becoming jealous over absolutely nothing. And it frustrated McGee the same it did with Ziva because Tony just wouldn't open his mouth – the one time he didn't – and tell her what she needed to hear. He would result to lowly actions to gather her attention to himself, away from the party and people there for example by a phone call, so that he could know she and him were on the same page. But was it so hard to really just tell Ziva how he felt instead of one minute being jealous and the next baiting her?

The dark look Tony sent McGee wasn't pleasant and McGee hung his head a moment. Jeanne had been a very tricky road he shouldn't have taken. "Forget what I said Tony," he apologized lightly. "But she felt like this when you didn't answer. And you are jealous."

Tony snorted, dismissing McGee blindly. Tim could tell he wasn't in the mood to listen but he ploughed ahead nonetheless. "She's out there, having fun. Being herself. Healing after the summer. And you can't seem to be happy for her."

The sighed was quiet but sad and Tim took a breath. Tony was listening but he was doing a great job of ignoring him too as he watched the football game intently. Someone scored a touchdown that had Rick wincing. "Tony, why don't you just talk to her?"

"Because," he started, clenching his teeth as his sluggish tongue stopped him from speaking. Or it could've been the knot in his throat. His green eyes narrowed on Tim as if judging his next action carefully. "Because why should I?" He glanced at McGee his face stoic but eyes glossy. "It's not there anymore Tim."

McGee sat there for a moment and did what came to his mind next. He lifted his hand and slapped Tony hard on the back of his skull. Tony closed his eyes against the contact and nodded once, understanding McGee silent meaning. "Tony, grow a pair and man up."

"Did you just say grow a pair? I didn't think little McGoo could talk like that?"

Tim narrowed his eyes. He felt like he was talking to a brick wall, which was Tony's greatest defense when confronted with emotions he didn't want to process. He starved off the inquisition of Eli David by tricking him, changing subjects and just general 'it's your fault' bullshit. It didn't surprise McGee he tried the technique on him to come out the situation none the wiser, with his emotions still tucked into his coat pocket and away from everyone.

The man was a giant puzzle. One minute he would talk about Ziva, about the amount of eye makeup to the gloss in her hair, to the way she irked him the wrong way while catching a guy, to nothing. One minute he was open and the next closed off. He was afraid and completely insecure, and McGee shook his head, a grin matching a Cheshire smile. And the man was in love.

He had only one card left to play, and God help him if Ziva ever found out but he had to get these two to open their eyes and just do what came naturally. "You know what?"

"What?" He asked sarcastically. Tony already looked ready to check out of the conversation, but Tim was determined to get something through to him.

"She cares about you," he began gaining eye contact. He licked his dry lips. He was thinking about the horrific death he would experience by Ziva if she ever found out that he betrayed her confidence but he couldn't help it. He had to make Tony see what he was missing out on by not completely opening himself up to his feelings. Tim knew how Tony felt for Ziva, but only because he discussed things with him; Tim had to make Tony talk to _Ziva_.

Tony felt for her. Ziva felt for him. It would be a long, horrible process but eventually they could make it work. It would be like pulling teeth from a toddler. It could be done, but it'd be painful. Much in the same way Tim felt right then, as the feeling to slap Tony reared its' ugly head again.

"She cares about you. She likes you DiNozzo," he rolled his eyes. "God knows why. But she does. And I know you like her – even if this conversation sounds remarkably immature." He narrowed his eyes on his friend. "You've both been through hell and back. Ziva's gone a step further to punish herself for betraying you and Gibbs, and me and Abby and even Ducky. She let herself be tortured because it was pittance for Rivkin being killed and losing you."

Tony cleared his throat but McGee wasn't letting him check out of it so soon. "You don't understand what I had to do just to get her to listen to me last week! I let her take me out into the snow. For coffee! And all we talked about was you! Do you know she doesn't look at you like she used to? And it's because of your emotions being there one second and gone the next. It's your incompetence for human emotion that's keeping her away." He left out that Ziva was afraid too and didn't trust herself to feel, but a little white lie never hurt anybody. And if it got these two to talk, and Tim back to his warm apartment, all the better.

The sheepish look made McGee sit back a second to breathe. He had to word this carefully, but Tony cut him off. "I know. I see that too McGee. Why do you think I keep starting fights with her? When she's angry…" he shrugged dejectedly. "I can see something in her eyes. When she's ignoring me there isn't anything there. She still doesn't trust me."

Tim slapped Tony again. This time is had been done without thinking it. His frustration had sky rocketed and he would be damned if Tony took the spotlight off what the problem was. "Pissing her off Tony is not the way to make her look at you."

"Ow! That hurt Probie!"

"Then shut up and listen to me!"

Silently they glared as Tony rubbed the back of his skull. He pulled his fingers away as if blood would be splattered on the digits. "Did you stop to think it's herself that she doesn't trust? Not you?"

The words felt heavy leaving his mouth but Tim had to make Tony see. He had broken down Ziva's walls; he could get through to Tony. At least he acknowledged his feelings for their friend whereas Ziva ignored hers. "She wants there to be something Tony. But she's afraid. And I've already spoken for you enough-"

"It's time for you to do something." Both men froze as they glanced back at Gibbs, his pepper hair matted down by the falling snow, his brown jacket dark at the top of his shoulders from the storm.

Tim felt a spike of panic in his gut but Tony looked up at the older man, a mess of confusion and shame highlighting his aged face. Tim hadn't realized until that moment how much older Tony had become since he was first assigned to the team. And it kicked him in the gut to realize how that made him feel; Tony had been the more capable, older agent, with dashing good looks and infallible direction of justice. Now as Tim looked at his friend, he realized that Tony wasn't some unreachable God among men – though he'd like everyone to believe that- and it made Tim wince in comparison.

Tony was just a man who was afraid of commitment. Tim let it sink in as he adjusted his stool, waiting for the dutiful Gibbs' slap that they both deserved.

"Boss?" Tim licked his lips. _'Crap. Subbasement here I come.'_

"Seems Tony isn't doing what Tony normally does." He took a seat to the other side of DiNozzo, lifting his hand for a drink. The same concoction that sloshed in Tony's hand appeared before Gibbs and Tim stifled a groan. Bourbon? Tony was drinking bourbon? The dawning of Tony's human standards and the comparison between the senior field agent and their boss was uncanny. Tim couldn't believe he had let idealism ruin his idea of his mentor and sometimes tormentor. Tony was guy who needed help, and Tim felt a certain pride at knowing he trusted him to point him in the right direction.

At least he thought it was pride. It could've been gas.

"And what's that Boss?" Tim could hear the crack of emotion in Tony's deep voice. Tipping his head back McGee downed the rest of his sherry, the burning making the gulp nasty but refine.

"Opening your trap." Tim watched as they caught eye contact and Gibbs mouth flirted into a small smirk as Tony snorted in laughter. Whatever they had communicated was unspoken and completely missed by Tim. No matter how long the three men worked together Tim would never have the same connection that Tony had with Gibbs. It was a tough love, father son relationship that had made Tony grow and mature over the years; even if he tried hiding it. And maybe that was why Tim could see Tony for what he was now that he was laid bare before his closest friends and coworkers.

"Listen," Gibbs took a swig of the bourbon, biting on his lip to keep from sighing in contentment. "I don't want to know what you two are talking about. Or who." His blue eyes narrowed on them and ashamed, they both lowered their heads to stare at the bar. "But for tonight, I'll say my peace and be done with it. And it also means none of this comes back to the office." He gulped down another sip, the small smile quirking his lips.

"Tony go tell her what she needs to hear. You'll be happy that you did." At the remorse covering Gibbs face, Tim knew in the pit of his stomach what Gibbs was saying was based off of his own experiences. The face of their late Director flashed through his memory before he felt Tony grip his shoulder. Looking up he could see a small but serious smile covering the senior field agent.

"Thanks Probie." He darted out, his coat wiping in the wind. Small flakes began to cover his shoulders but he ran through the mess without a care. Snorting Tim shrugged. Well he could've done that but he wouldn't have gotten to yell at him without the back lashing.

"And you," Gibbs countered, the bourbon sliding down his throat. Tim's eyes widened in panic. _'Please don't hit me.' _"Have a secret admirer." He jerked his head away to the booth directly behind them. A petite girl with a short red hair curling around her face smiled hesitantly at McGee. He could see the kindness radiating around her and all that was in her hand was a glass of diet coke.

"Maybe coming out in the snow to a _bar_ was a good choice after all."

McGee smiled despite the hint of worry that Gibbs had known exactly what he had been thinking before meeting Tony. Abby had once said Gibbs was like magic and Tim wasn't going to argue as he walked himself over to the cute girl, his boss' laughter a distant ring. Maybe coming to the bar _was_ a good idea.

"Hi, my name's Tim."

* * *

**AN:** That's it for now. I want to write the final scene of Tony showing up on Ziva's doorstep, but I want to remain in character and in sync with the show so until I rewatch the Christmas one (which was okay, but the last scene had me crying that Tony was thoughtful enough to get his Secret Santa something important and Ziva pushing him to give it was the best friendship marker to date. Not TIVA but friendship and it is better than enemies) and next week's, it'll stay on the back burner. Not to mention this was based around Tim's third person point of view – so I might throw a splash of him in the next one too. What do you think of that idea?

And how was this? I tried getting some key points out, but I think Tony's jealous tendencies over Ziva was what had to finally come out. You're jealous. We all know it. Now get pass that and move on to something else. Geez.

(Whether you agree or not over it's love or attention grabbing or just plain friendship, Tony has some serious jealousy issues concerning Ms. Ziva David).

_Peace_


End file.
